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“Wait, wait, oh…”
Angela’s begging came as barely a whisper, muted by her own breathless moans. She struggled to keep herself steady while Moira’s tongue skillfully explored the dripping heat between her legs, and so she gripped a fistful of rusty red hair tightly in one hand, clutching the sheets beneath her with the other.
“Moira!”
The name left her lips with wild appreciation. Moira, galvanized by the stroke to her ego, leaned forward hungrily and pushed her tongue deeper, faster, her grip of Angela’s hips becoming more possessive each time they rolled lustfully to meet her efforts. Her body craved to be touched. As her sobs and sighs filled the room, the sound of her own voice brought a wash of crimson to her cheeks. A little self-conscious of how easily Moira could make a mess of her, Angela turned to hide her face in her pillow. The tension within her coiled so tightly that she moaned shakily into it, her back arching of its own volition. In response, Moira’s tongue danced in circles.
With stars bursting behind her eyelids, Angela forgave herself for sounding so desperate. This feeling was precisely why she had invited Moira into bed in the first place and, how cathartic it was, to get what she wanted.
“Oh, mein Gott, Moira.” Angela whined, smirking into the pillow. It was deliberate this time; imploring and full of tease. She inhaled sharply when Moira’s nails dug harder into her hips, just the way she liked.
Her heart raced as each second took her dangerously close to absolution. First, her legs trembled, anticipation building until it was her whole body which shook but never threatened to escape Moira’s grasp. Her chest rose and fell, heaving in a rhythm that ebbed and flowed under Moira’s exacting control. She had come to learn that Moira’s relationship with control was just as intense as the rest of her, taking her own version of pleasure in bringing Angela to the very edge and allowing, or cruelly denying, her the release she so desperately wanted. Moira had suggested it fun not to know which to expect and for Angela, it was bliss and torture combined.
Exercising said control, Moira withdrew her oral attentions in favour of pressing two slender fingers against Angela’s arousal, being met with liberal wetness and a shaky exhalation. She pushed them inside forcefully. They moaned together, tears creeping to the corners of Angela’s eyes as the intensity built within her. Moira buried her face again and set a strong pace with her fingers, excited by how eagerly Angela sank onto them. The way Angela writhed under Moira’s caresses shook the bed frame against the wall and, were the bed’s occupants not so distracted, the two of them might have worried someone would hear.
Not that it mattered. Almost anyone in the world could have shouted for Angela now but she was lost to the moment and her mind, great as it was, swam with lust and little else but the fierce desire to hold on to the feeling for as long as she could.
The good doctor gasped in air like each breath would be her last. She let it leave her in short, sharp bursts as Moira fucked her; sweet mewls and moans that mixed deliciously with the sound of worship between her thighs. It was all she could do to hold on, glad for her hand twisted in the sheets that she felt kept her grounded, as though she feared she would float away if she let go.
“Wait!” Angela whined, her strained voice warning of just how close to her climax she truly was. “Please?”
Her desperate pleading won a hum of approval from below which sent vibrations through her clit and made her heart flutter. It would have tipped her over the edge had Moira not slowed her advances. The redhead paused, but only briefly, planting heavy kisses on Angela’s soft thighs before allowing her tongue to trace its way back, her fingers moving more slowly, deliberately, in time.
Perhaps as reassurance, or simply to ensure her stillness, Moira gripped Angela’s thigh with her other hand, her well-kept nails biting into the flesh. Angela looked down nervously. Moira could be cruel at times but this didn’t feel like one of them. She tangled her fingers further into Moira’s hair with each languid stroke and measured thrust of her tongue and fingers, every moment pure and entire ecstasy. Angela wished she would forever remember Moira’s expression. Her brows were knitted together in concentration and her face was flushed with arousal, allowing Angela to admire her collection of freckles, though she could barely make them out in the low light.
Aware of being watched, Moira opened her eyes a touch, her long copper eyelashes fluttering in the moonlight that cascaded over them. They hadn’t cared to fully close the drapes as they fell into bed together earlier and what little light leaked through bathed the room in a brilliant blue glow. Taken by it, their gazes met for a spellbound moment, Angela’s eyes heavily lidded and lustful.
This was not their first time together. Nor was it their second, or any notable number. Angela had tried to keep count in the beginning but they had come to know each other so intimately well that now she could barely recall what it felt like not to have the scent of Moira O’Deorain caught in her sheets. They had never meant for it to become a permanent affair, yet they continued to seek each other out as sure as the sun would rise in the morning.
Angela tried to breathe slowly, measured and focused. Moira looked up, having too taken the opportunity to catch her breath, her face splitting into an ever-so-pleased-with-herself smile. Angela offered a weak smile of her own in response, completely consumed by how devilishly handsome the woman was. There had never been any point in denying her attraction to her. Moira was brilliant.
Even if given an eternity, Angela wasn’t sure she could quantify what it was that lured her to Moira. While she was charming, confident, and remarkably smart, she was also cold, even hurtful, at times. Not to mention the concerns Angela had over her questionable morality. She had hoped that Moira’s departure beyond the reach of Overwatch would ease those concerns; out of sight, out of mind, but when she left, Angela felt much the same as before, with an additional sting of regret.
Every so often, Angela wondered how they had come to be in this situation. The very start had been a fire, fuelled by anger and immeasurable sexual tension. An agreement which fulfilled the need they both had to exert and relinquish power. Between each of their trysts their frustrations would grow and inevitably, they fell against each other to alleviate them. And that was all that it was, for a while. As time went on, though, Angela knew the driving force had become something unexpectedly different.
Rather than gripping Angela’s thigh any longer, Moira moved her hand up and intertwined her fingers with those of Angela’s hand on the bed. It was genuine and gentle, like she could sense the cogs ticking over in Angela’s mind and sought to reassure her. Angela also wondered when things had changed between them to allow for such tender things. She wondered, just when had it been that she had fallen so far and so deeply in, in…
Scheisse.
She wouldn’t think it. She couldn’t.
No matter how she denied it to herself, Angela knew things had changed the first morning they had woken up together. All the times before, Moira left. Moira always left. She would find her clothes and get dressed in the dark. Moira would bid Angela goodnight and such was their routine. They learned to ignore each other so skillfully that it became an art, and they mastered the act they presented to the world, their roles precise and well defined.
Then, in a moment of weakness, Angela had broken the routine.
She had pulled on Moira’s wrist and begged her to stay a while longer. Talking late into the night in each others’ arms was the first true intimacy they shared and from then, their affections began, bubbling up from deep below the surface. Angela tried to sink them, but each and every time she let herself fall asleep in Moira’s arms, she knew they were pulling her under.
Moira seemed to notice Angela had become tense. She stroked her fingers with her own and let her head rest against Angela’s delicate inner thigh, which was now peppered with love bites. Angela let loose of Moira’s hair to give her a break, too, twirling a few strands lazily in the silence.
She couldn’t help but smile as they looked to read each other’s faces. Moira was always so well presented that Angela was even more able to appreciate her now, with her striking red hair sweaty and flopped forward, kinking and waving across her forehead and catching in her eyes. It was a rare chance to capture her beautiful imperfection.
And that, she realised, was the allure. While everyone could see the diamond cut presentation that Moira wanted them to, it was her and only her that saw her flaws and authenticities. It was her who gained permission to rest between Moira’s arms and hear that beneath all of her stoicisms, she could be vulnerable, and her heart was beating.
Despite her bothersome locks, Moira was watching Angela intensely, caressing her whole body with a renewed and hungry gaze. She could push Angela to the edge again with a simple curl of her fingers and her smile expressed that she knew it, too. Arrogant and teasing, such an attitude would irritate Angela at any time other than this. It had become Moira’s expertise to take her there and pull her back again, well practiced fingers slipping out and offering her tongue to fill her roughly in its place. That move in particular made Angela’s back arch so fiercely she often struggled to steady herself and as they resumed their game, this time was no different.
As a playful consequence, Angela tightened her grip on Moira’s hair once more and pulled her sharply forward, encouraging her to come upward by raking her nails across her freckled shoulders, which elicited a deep moan from the redhead. Moira rushed up and lay over her, grinding her own slim thigh between Angela’s and shuddering as the blonde left red welts down her back the way she knew she loved. Angela shifted to wrap her legs around Moira’s waist, aching to be filled again. For a wild moment they were a mess of limbs. They came to lay beside each other, Moira pulling Angela’s leg roughly, higher, almost up onto her shoulder and her fingers quickly found their way back into Angela’s desperate core, as they fought to be closer.
Their eyes locked together in the moonlight. Angela’s pleaded where Moira’s burned, arousal setting ablaze between them. Whining sweetly, Angela closed the gap, meeting Moira’s lips with her own. They kissed hungrily. To kiss had once been something they never did. It was personal, and intimate. Suggestive of feelings other than a relationship of convenience. After a while though, it had been impossible to resist drinking every inch of each other in, and it had been Angela then who had taken the first kiss. Moira had soon reciprocated by forcing her tongue down her throat, though, and from then they had wordlessly accepted the new appreciations.
Moira hiked Angela up a little higher and kissed down from her mouth to her jaw, then to her neck leaving tiny bites that Angela would definitely have proof of in the morning. She devoured her, descending further and took her stiff nipple into her mouth. She swirled her hot tongue around it and groaned as the arousal all but consumed her. Angela threw her head back and sucked air in through gritted teeth as Moira fucked her harder. Her slick coated Moira’s fingers and allowed a third to push in with some encouragement, and Angela’s moans spilled out with the weight of her emotions, pouring like blood from a wound.
They could both feel it approaching as they rocked together. Angela whimpered when Moira let her thumb trace over the hood of her clit, and when she applied some pressure and let it rub with each thrust of her fingers, Angela soon moaned her name again, uncontrollably, tears spilling down her cheeks. She twitched tightly around Moira and came, shaking and simpering, mumbling into Moira’s hair, her exaltations a frantic mixture of English and German.
After a few blissful moments, their breathing steadied and calmed. Moira let herself slide out of Angela gently, and they relaxed, holding each other like lovers would. But, they were not lovers, Angela reminded herself. She turned her body closer to Moira to bury that thought for a while, enjoying the warmth of her skin and the comfort of their breathing in sync.
When she knew she could be silent no longer and with a tremble in her voice, Angela spoke.
“This,” She began, burying her face in the scent of Moira’s hair, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear, “this has to be the last time we do this, Moira.”
Moira sighed, trailing her hand over the gorgeous curves of Angela’s waist. She admired her for as long as she comfortably could without acknowledging the statement, but eventually, she took Angela’s chin and brought their eyes to meet.
“I know.”
Her voice was deep, and sultry. It was a lie, though, and they both knew it. They both knew they would breathe each other’s names again before the night was done, and they would promise when Moira left in the morning that it would really be the last time, the very last time.
Like all the times before.